


Life, Again

by heresy_in_fair



Category: Pippin - Schwartz/Hirson
Genre: (sort of), Character Study, Gen, Storytelling, anyway it's berthe's pov and yeah, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heresy_in_fair/pseuds/heresy_in_fair
Summary: Berthe has been a member of this troupe of players for a long, long while. She hasn't always been Berthe, though, and she is uniquely suited to observe and reflect when the story starts to diverge from the one she knows.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Life, Again

Nowadays, Berthe spends most of her time watching from the wings. She has her moment of glory, yes, but if she’s being honest, it doesn’t feel as fulfilling as it used to. She is not even as old as the role claims to be, nor has she performed it for many years, but they weigh on her heavily. 

Berthe still clearly remembers that she had another role, once. The last woman who played the old-but-still-kicking grandmother had not, she knows. That Berthe had watched Catherine disdainfully, horrified at the way she let Pippin walk all over her. Not seeing, not remembering, not  _ wanting _ to believe that that had been her.

It’s a secret the troupe keeps from outsiders, but how could it not be true? The woman aging out of her role, who cares too much for the boy who doesn’t know himself. The woman who is old but still strong, who cares too much for the boy who doesn’t know himself. Catherine is not Berthe, no, but she will be. Berthe is not Catherine, no, but she was. 

Perhaps their audiences would realize this if they had names anymore. It is tiring being a body with no name and no voice for itself, but they make do.

Berthe has plenty of free time, now. She does not spend it resting, as perhaps she should, nor does she rehearse her role. Instead, she watches the show. Most times, it is the same. Pippin tries everything he can think of; war, sex, politics, ordinary life. Nothing is enough, and he is consumed by the flames.

(Sometimes Berthe feels guilty about her role in this. At least before she would try to get Pippin to stay, try to save him. Now she must push each Pippin closer to their doom or risk expulsion from the troupe.)

Today feels different. It’s midsummer; the days are lighter and longer than they have any right to be, and there is a constant scent of herbs in the air. Today’s Pippin is younger than usual, and he has a spring in his step. They all do, at first. But this one seems particularly peppy, and some deeply buried part of Berthe fervently wishes he could stay that way.

The show gets off to a great start. Pippin is earnest and very talented; the Leading Player is conniving and sinister. Fastrada is sultry and perfect, Charlemagne is blundering and hilarious, Lewis is exaggerated and violent, Catherine-

Catherine, who is supposed to be watching from the ensemble, a blank slate only, is staring at Pippin with an awfully earnest glance. Catherine watches Pippin talk to the Head and smiles quietly, stands in the background as he shouts for revolution and gazes at him with fiery eyes.

Berthe, before she became Berthe, was warned away from caring too much, getting too attached.  _ If you love him, we’ll throw you out. If you love him, he will die.  _ Of course he always died anyway. Berthe, when she was Catherine, stood far away and went through the motions and did not allow herself to care for the Pippins who passed through her care. It always went perfectly;  _ too  _ perfectly, the Leading Player used to joke.

This Catherine has only been playing the role for a few years, and she still slips up at times; utters her phrases backwards, is a little too genuine, sheds a silent tear as Pippin launches himself into the flame. This Catherine should know that this is a dangerous game for her to be playing, given her history and her tendency to be so human. This Catherine has a fragile, genuine heart, which is why she was given this role; but it also makes her weak, and she can only last so long in this cycle of life and death and life again.

Soon enough, Berthe sings her song, and she thinks she means it more than she ever has. She knows that what happens at the end of each performance is wrong, and she wants to save this Pippin. 

Pippin reminds her of her own younger cousin. Berthe hasn’t thought about him in a long time.

Berthe hasn’t thought about anyone outside the troupe in a long time.

Berthe sings her song, and she tries to tell Pippin to run. Every word, every motion means something else. She step-kicks her way into a warning of danger, smiles a plea to get out while he can. Pippin does not notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. 

When the song ends, Berthe is carried offstage and collapses onto the floor. She knows she has to get ready to dance in the next song, but she is so tired. If this level of emotion is what Catherine is feeling every night, then no wonder the dark circles under her eyes are so prominent these days and no wonder she cries herself to sleep at night (something Berthe is not supposed to know) and no wonder-

“Hey,” says Lewis from above her. “We have to enter soon. Let’s go.” Tugging on her arm, he pulls her up and gives her a gentle shove towards her ensemble costume before sauntering over to the edge of the curtain. Berthe envies him. He is so young, so carefree; he jokes around with the other members of the troupe, flirts with each Pippin, leaps around onstage as if he has no burdens to carry. Which… perhaps he doesn’t. Or maybe he is just better at hiding it. You can’t escape from this cyclical story without some scars. 

Berthe struggles through the rest of the performance.The rosy tint she used to view the world through has faded, replaced with a graying troupe and a faded stage. The floorboards are scuffed from character shoes, Fastrada’s dress is ripped at the bottom, and the paint on the set is chipping. It is hard to believe in the stage and the story and in  _ Berthe,  _ whoever that is, when it all blurs into nothing before her eyes. She goes through the paces, feels the Leading Player’s eyes fall disapprovingly on her, avoids the glances of her castmates. If they look deeply enough, maybe they’ll understand what she is now beginning to know.

The cycle cannot continue like this forever. The troupe cannot remain in motion, a parasite that feeds on impressionable young people, consuming their hopes and dreams and spitting it out into a story that is told over and over. Telling a story again doesn’t make it true. Repeating a phrase doesn’t make it right. And it has become painfully clear that a story rooted in uncertainty is too easily corrupted. Sooner or later, something - or somebody - is going to crack.

The second act runs about as smoothly as expected. Berthe watches this Catherine intently. She puts so much of herself into every motion; leans into Pippin’s hand brushing her cheek, displays the quince pudding flambé with an exaggerated flourish, stutters through the repetition of her monologue with a quiet intensity. 

Berthe can see the tears glittering in Catherine’s eyes as she sings of Pippin leaving and of suns and love and people who are cruel but who you love in spite of yourself. For the first time in years, Berthe cries, too.

They finally reach the Finale, and Berthe is terrified. She hides it behind a crinkly-eyed smile and wraps her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She’s not supposed to have the shawl in this number, but Berthe knows she’s already in trouble with the Leading Player, and she wants the protection it seems to lend her. In the shawl she is a harmless old grandmother; out of it she is a leak in the floorboards of this already damaged ship.

Berthe can see her unease spreading to other players. It’s hot, the middle of the summer, and emotions are running high. Pippin shuffles his boots back and forth in a neat pattern. Lewis picks at his nails nervously, perched on the set next to a frowning Fastrada. Theo, backstage, bounces up and down next to an abnormally quiet Catherine. The Leading Player presides over an eerily quiet troupe.

The last scene moves swiftly. Berthe gazes into Pippin’s eyes when she delivers her last line: “And life again.”  _ Know that there is life beyond this story,  _ she begs. She wishes she could say it out loud.

“You deserve an extraordinary climax!” the Leading Player proclaims, yanking Pippin violently towards the circle of flame. Berthe knows how this will end. This is where they sing to Pippin, and Pippin is entranced, and falls into the flame, and is gone forever. 

But this Pippin does not seem to let them into his head. He gazes, eyes glazed, at the flames, but Berthe soon realizes those are tears pooling in his eyes. He looks anguished as opposed to resigned as he climbs the trapeze and dangles above the flame. 

“Rivers belong where they can ramble… Eagles belong where they can fly!” the troupe exhales, and Berthe feels her blood run cold as Pippin tips forward, the trapeze swaying - and catches himself on the ropes. Berthe breathes out a sigh of relief, and she thinks most of those around her do, too. This is the most connected she’s felt to her fellow actors (if what they are doing is really acting, anymore) in a long, long while. 

Catherine emerges from the wings with Theo, and Pippin gazes at them with such conflicted feelings in his eyes that Berthe is afraid she will cry once again. It isn’t like her to be so emotional; she has trained for decades to keep a thick facade up around her heart. 

Pippin begins singing to a lilting melody, strange and yet familiar at once. The Leading Player gets more and more worked up, trying to stop Pippin from going even more off-script, but it’s no use. “You’ll see what it’s like without us!” the Leading Player is desperate now. She calls for the lights, sets, costumes to be removed. Berthe slips Catherine’s dress off of her and discreetly presses her hand before hurrying backstage, not eager to be in the path of the Leading Player’s wrath. Pippin continues singing as the troupe slowly creeps back onstage, then finally stops. As Pippin and Catherine look at each other, the Leading Player throws up her hands, devastated. 

“All right. It’s over!” she shouts. “The show’s over,” she murmurs, much quieter. The actors watch her, tense. “Everybody out! Let’s go.”

The ensemble members, the ones who are newer to this, start and obey as she stares them down. The family - Charlemagne, Fastrada, Lewis, Berthe - hovers, slowly backing away.

Berthe knows she should leave, but there is one thing she needs to do first. She starts towards Pippin; Lewis makes a noise in his throat and Charlemagne reaches out to stop her, but she ignores them. A proper goodbye is the least she can give this kid. The Leading Player notices Berthe’s movement and glares, but doesn’t make a move towards her. 

Berthe grasps Pippin’s hands in her own, stares into his eyes. He is silent, his eyes rimmed in red but staring steadily out, and she thinks maybe he’ll be okay. She hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek, then does the same to both Catherine and Theo. She is too afraid of going off-script to say anything, but it isn’t needed anyway. These ones understand, she thinks. After all, they found a way to break the cyclical story.

When Pippin and Catherine are gone, when Theo remains, the troupe is left rather the same as before. The Leading Player pretends nothing has gone wrong as they pack up the sets and costumes for the night of travel ahead, but an undercurrent of something unfamiliar runs through them all. 

Berthe thinks it might be hope.

**Author's Note:**

> i finished writing this at 12 am and barely edited it so my apologies if it's incoherent. i just have a lot of feelings about pippin (the musical... well, and the character), the relationships between the characters, and the concept of storytelling. hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> also! i've now written pippin fic from the pov of pippin and berthe, and kind of want to do some from catherine, lewis, TLP, and fastrada's povs (maybe charlemagne and theo too, but idk). so look out for that if i have time!


End file.
